


Methos Chronicles 27

by Helis_von_Askir



Series: Methos Chronicles [27]
Category: Highlander: The Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:35:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29262888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helis_von_Askir/pseuds/Helis_von_Askir
Summary: First head, second head. What does it matter? He buried them a long time ago, and he wanted to forget them, along with some other things that sometimes don’t want to leave him alone. Why won’t they let him forget?
Series: Methos Chronicles [27]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1350058
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	Methos Chronicles 27

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t Highlander, only my OCs. The whole Cam’tar idea comes from the audiobooks, but I did my own take on them.

Lightning flashed across the sky and the wind pushed the heavy rain against the windows. Methos sat in the dark living room staring at nothing.

Earlier in the evening Joe had asked him if he really didn’t remember anything before taking his first head five thousand years ago. As if Methos would answer such a question truthfully. Joe should know better than that by now. And normally it didn’t bother him, but today, tonight was for some reason different.

Did he remember his first head? He thought he did. At least, he was pretty sure he did. Ninety percent sure, or maybe eighty-five percent. He remembered all the heads he had taken. They never let him forget.

But the one he had taken five thousand years ago, the one Joe had been talking about, hadn’t been his first, or his second. It was just the first were a witness had seen it and lived long enough to spread the tale. And after a while Methos had no longer cared if anyone saw or not. The times had truly been different back then.

His first head, his real first one, he had taken more than a thousand years before. Thirteen hundred years after had become Immortal. He was pretty confident about those numbers, he might be off by a century or two, but no more than that. Unthinkable nowadays that one could live for over a thousand years without taking a head.

But back then there had been so much fewer people and therefore fewer Immortals. And when Methos had become immortal there had been no Game because there had been no way to cut off somebody’s head. At least not easily. Swords hadn’t been invented, hell, bronze hadn’t been invented back then. They had stone weapons, good for breaking bones, but cutting? Not so much. _Ever tried to cut someone’s head off with a stone axe?_ He had once asked Joe. Of course the mortal hadn’t but he had gotten the point.

The Immortal he had met back then hadn’t been friends for the most part, but they hadn’t been enemies either. But then someone had invented the Game and everything had changed. Or not exactly invented, he was pretty sure that the mess at Cam’tar was the source of that particular madness. He had no proof of that, and he really didn’t think it would be a good idea to tell anyone who hadn’t been there about that theory. These young Immortals nowadays would only get ideas.

Methos also remembered the first time he had seen someone beheaded, of that he was absolutely sure. They had all been mortal but still it was a sight he would never forget because he had instinctively known that that was dangerous to him. That it had to be avoided at all cost. His survival instincts had been impeccable even back then.

That was why he was still here and so many others were not. The only one who came close to his age was Tyrael and there were over six centuries between them, as best as they could tell. Not that many even knew about her existence. She had kept her name carefully out of history. Even the Watchers didn’t know her true name or age.

While he had turned himself into a myth, she had erased herself from history. They were still arguing about which course of action had been the smarter one. Right now, Methos tended to say hers had been the better choice, especially since he met MacLeod.

“Where are you?” Marique asked from behind him. Methos hadn’t even heard her come into the living room. He was getting sloppy in his old age it would appear.

“Just trotting down my dusty memory lane.” He replied with a small smile.

Marique sat down next to him. “I’ve been told that going down that road too far is bad for one’s health.”

Methos scoffed. “Must have been a very wise man, then.” He had told her that centuries ago.

“So he likes to believe.” Marique gave his shoulder a light squeeze. “You know you can tell me, if you want.”

“I know.” He whispered. But he wouldn’t. Some burdens he had to carry alone. It wouldn’t be fair to put those things on her shoulders. Marique knew all that, she had offered because she was his friend and willing to carry every burden he struggled with, if he let her. Night like these she wondered what he had done right in his long life that he deserved her in it.

A few days later they were sitting in Joe’s bar in Paris. They were celebrating his birthday. Sixty-five wasn’t old after Immortal standards but for Joe it meant that there were not as many birthdays before him as behind him.

“Back in the day you would have been considered positively ancient.” Methos informed him when Joe started grapping about getting old. He wasn’t quite sober anymore at that point. “Now, you’re just entering your best years.”

“Yeah, right. Thanks for the prep talk, Old Man.” Joe shook his head and took a sip from his drink. The place was nearly empty, only a handful of friends had been invited, namely Mac, Amanda, Richie, Methos, Marique and of course Amy. The Watchers had already thrown him a party back at HQ. It had been nice, aside from the not so subtle inquiries as to when he planned on retiring. Never, that’s when. They could carry his cold corpse from the field, he had decided long ago.

“By the way, I was meaning to ask you guys something.” Joe said and motioned to get everyone’s attention.

“What is it, Joe?” MacLeod asked curiously.

“Our research department came up with a term they can’t qualify. We don’t even know if it’s a person or a place or something completely different.” Joe stated. “Has one of you ever heard of something or someone called Camrtar?”

“Cam’tar.” Methos corrected quietly after a moment. His face had grown still and cold.

“You know it? What is it?” Joe asked, not exactly eagerly, but very interested.

“It’s a place. Something bad had happened there.” Amanda spoke up suddenly. She had also grown very sober. “Rebecca mentioned it once, but she refused to tell me more.”

“Methos?” Joe prompted when no one else said anything and the old Immortal didn’t continue.

The oldest Immortal shook his head. “I’m way too sober to talk about Cam’tar, Joseph. It’s ancient history anyway.”

Joe scoffed. “I’m a Watcher, ancient history is what we do. But if you don’t want to talk about it that’s okay. We’ll figure it out on your own eventually.”

“I really hope you won’t.” Methos muttered.

Joe had to report what Methos and Amanda had told him, of course. That he been the idea behind the entire exercise. Not that it was much but more than they had before. And he always felt like an errant school boy heaving been ordered to the principal’s office.

“A place, well that’s great. Did they mention where?” Zoll asked after he had finished.

Joe shook his head. “No, Amanda only knew that Rebecca was there and some shit went down, but that’s it. And Methos, well, he doesn’t want to talk about it at all. Just that we should let it rest.”

Zoll snorted. “Yeah, right. I don’t think so. He probably screwed something up and Rebecca had to clean it up.”

“Something tells me there is more to is.” Joe said. “Listen, I’ll try to try to find out more but that will probably take some time. Methos can be pretty stubborn when he want so be, but so am I.”

“Fine, take all the time you need. It’s not going anywhere. I’ll try to put the name on a map. Stands to reason that it’s somewhere in the Middle East, Mesopotamia or near there.” The last part not meant for Joe, but only her thinking aloud.

When Joe came to Rome the next time, he put a full bottle of vodka in front of Methos. The old Immortal looked up at Joe with an innocent expression on his face. _Damn it,_ Joe thought _, he knows how to pull off the little kid routine._

“You said the other day you were too sober to talk about Cam’tar.” Joe stated.

“And the Tribunal gave you permission to get me sloshed to get some answers?” Methos wanted to know with a small smile. “I’m shocked.”

“Something like that.” Joe shrugged and sat down.

Methos sighed and shook his head. “One bottle won’t be nearly enough, Joseph.”

Cam’tar, outside Mesopotamia, ca. 2.200 BC

“They’re openly coming over the pass, as you said they would.” Nahaam reported when she and Ashkar returned from their scouting trip.

“It’s an army, they have not need to hide. How many? Can you tell?” Methos wanted to know.

“It’s hard to count them with them constantly moving around, but I think three hundred.” Nahaam replied.

“Or near enough to make no difference.” Ashkar added, looking at the others in there little group. “Either way they outnumber us badly.”

“So, what do we do now? Run or fight?” Tyrael asked.

“Run, we can’t hope to win, not against so many.” Rebecca pointed out. They had been running for a while now, them and countless mortals. They had hoped to hide here and let them pass them by, but that was not to be.

“And how far will you run? Can you ran on water? Because at one point you will have to if you want to keep running. What then?” Methos asked, working a wooden stick into the campfire, messing it up.

“You want to fight?” Rebecca looked incredulous. “Against three hundred?”

“I want to survive. And this time that means fighting.” Methos corrected, still focused on the fire.

“How? We don’t have the numbers, a tenth, if that.” Nahaam pointed out.

“Don’t we?” Methos mused.

Tyrael barked a laugh. “You speak of the mortals? Why would they fight with us, for us? This isn’t their fight.” She had been watching the fire and him playing with it. As if it were about to reveal a grand new truth to them.

“Isn’t it? What do the mortals say? You don’t have to hide, we know you’re there.” Methos called into the darkness beyond the fire.

Two men stepped into the light, looking at the group of Immortals with fear but also determination. “We don’t understand all that you speak off, but can’t run anymore. Our old and young are dying, our herds are dying. Whatever you are, we’ll fight with you to stop the coming army, if you show us how.” The older one of them replied.

“Such courage, or is it desperation?” Tyrael muttered.

“Does it matter?” Methos wanted to know. “They will fight. What about you, my friends, will you fight too?”

“I’m with you, Methos.” Nahaam stated.

Tyrael sighed. “It’s madness, but I also will fight.”

“What other choice do we have?” Rebecca asked. “I’ll fight.”

Ashkar, Maliva, Saan, Delek, one by one they nodded, reluctantly, but they would fight.

“Well, can’t really say no when you all say yes.” Caspian spoke up. As the youngest of them he had been quiet until now. “Now, tell us that plan of yours, friend.”

“That sword won’t get any sharper anymore, you know.” Methos said to Nahaam conversationally as he sat down next to his former student.

“I now, I just need to occupy myself with something, since I seem to be unable to find any sleep.” Nahaam replied, holding the blade up to inspect it for the hundredth time.

“It will work.” Methos assured her. “It has to or the world will truly come to an end. Khaniel has to be stopped or he will never stop.”

“I don’t doubt you, Methos. But what then? What if by some miracle we are victorious, what then?” Nahaam wanted to know.

“What do you mean?” Methos was honestly confused as to what Nahaam was trying to say.

Nahaam gave him a long look. “Don’t play the fool, Methos. Mortals know of us now, they know how to permanently kill us. We just taught them ourselves. And they fear us. They need us now but what about afterwards? When Khaniel is no more? They’ll turn us as sure as the sun rises in the morning.”

Methos shrugged. “Many of them will die tomorrow. So will some of us. I don’t think those who survive will have the time or energy left to fight us.”

“So you hope.” Nahaam said. “Since when do you believe in hope?”

“I don’t but it doesn’t really matter, does it? They’re mortals, and will soon be dead anyway. They’ll forget us soon enough. And we’ll go our own ways, as we always do.” Methos pointed out.

“Some will have to die sooner than others.” Nahaam muttered.

“That is your decision then. I won’t stop you if you think it’s necessary.” Methos told her. “Just make sure you kill the right ones, at the right time.”

They sat in silence for a while before Nahaam started sharpening her sword again. “It’s an interesting idea, isn’t it? To band together, to no longer wander the world alone, always moving on.”

“it is, but it wouldn’t work for long, not for our kind. Khaniel is the only thing keeping his army together. Without him it will disappear like water in the desert.” Methos sighed. “But yes, it’s an interesting idea.”

“Then shouldn’t we focus on taking him out first and foremost?” Nahaam wanted to know.

“He’ll be protected. We’ll have to fight our way through to him. That’s why we brought the mortals into this. And then one of us will have to take his head.” Methos wasn’t enthusiastic about the prospect, but it would have to be done.

“And go as insane as he is. That’s what you and Tyrael haven’t said at the meeting. Many know it but not the young ones. They haven’t realized it yet.” Nahaam said calmly. “You’re planning on sacrificing one of them, hoping he or she won’t be as dangerous as Khaniel afterwards.”

Methos smiled humorlessly for a moment. “If we were to lock him up it would have to be forever. That won’t work for long. A price will have to be paid. And since when are you one of the old ones?”

“Since this nightmare started.” Nahaam replied. “I just hope I won’t be the one who has to pay the price, or you.”

Methos laid his hand on her shoulder for a moment. “I hope so too.”

When the sun rose the next morning the two armies found each other facing across the green grass dotting the oasis. They were so close to each other that their presence washed over them again and again.

Khaniel stood at the back of his men, overlooking everything from a small hill. He was eying the not quite two dozen Immortals standing against him with contempt on his face, clearly for everyone to see. The mortals he completely ignored. And why shouldn’t he? So far no one had been able to stop his march of destruction.

Raising his sword over his head Khaniel let out a wordless roar, no words needed to get the meaning across. His men took up the roar as they started running at their enemies.

Methos braced himself, praying that this would actually work, and then there was no more time for thinking, only for fighting.

The mortals around the twenty-three Immortals took the brunt of that first attack, but they held and only when Methos gave the word, did they allow one of the enemy Immortals into the circle, keeping the other at bay. This was being repeated all over the battlefield, he was glad to see. The mortals paid for it, but Methos couldn’t let that distract him, he had his own part to play.

The man facing him was small and wiry, dark of skin and bad teeth. Which he gritted as he came at Methos with a many notched bronze sword. The man was fast, but so was Methos. They traded a few blows, testing each other for weaknesses. It didn’t take Methos long to find his opponent’s and took advantage of it. Only a few breaths later the other man’s head hit the ground with the rest of the body following.

The Quickening was short, the other Immortal had been very young, but he still needed longer than he would have liked to recover sufficiently to give the signal again the let the next one through. Thankfully, that one was already dead when his mortals dragged him into the circle, at least it would be fast. Because this day was far from over.

The battle raged for hours, the circles of mortals being thinned as time went by, only to be replaced by yet more of them. Methos had stopped counting a while ago how many heads he had taken, but he was tired, he was exhausted and he only wanted to lay down and sleep for a couple of days, but that wouldn’t happen until Khaniel was dead. He was keeping his army going, nothing else.

Struggling back to his feet after yet another Quickening he decided that it had to end now. They were running out of mortals, soon they would have to send out the children. But another was faster. Methos had to think for a moment to remember his name. Caspian, that weird boy that seemed to like eating dead people. He would be their sacrifice, whether he won or lost.

While Methos watched, Caspian engaged Khaniel and though it looked like Caspian was outmatched, the younger Immortal just didn’t give up, receiving several wounds in the process of the vicious fight but backing down. Then Methos had to focus back on his own battles and when he could look over again, Khaniel, unbelievingly, was on his knees and Caspian’s sword came down.

For a moment it looked like the entire world was holding its breath and then the Quickening hit and it was massive and…wrong. Method didn’t know what it was but this wasn’t right.

“They’re fleeing!” Rebecca shouted, indicating the surviving enemy Immortals who had of course noted that their leader had just lost his head. At least enough of them to get them running.

“Let them go.” Methos muttered. “Let them go!” he repeated louder. It was over, no need for hunt to cap the day off. And they still had to deal with Caspian.

“What’s wrong?” Nahaam asked as she staggered over to Methos. “This…this isn’t as it’s supposed to be.” She made to walk over to the young Immortal.

“Don’t.” Methos stopped her with hand on her arm. “Don’t.”

Caspian was moaning by now, cowering on the ground. Then a shudder ran through him and he started to snarl which turned to an outright howl when he saw the chaos and death around him.

“Caspian,” Rebecca said in a calming voice, raising a hand. “It’s alright, we’re your friends.”

But he didn’t seem to hear her because he came snarling and howling and then the just started to run. Most were smart enough to get out of his way, but Ashkar and Saan tried to stop him and died for it. Thankfully Caspian didn’t take the time to take their heads but kept on running.

“Do we go after him? Stop him?” Delek wanted to know.

“No,” Tyrael shook her head. “This isn’t Caspian, not right now. This is Khaniel, and the boy needs to come to terms with him on his own, if he can.”

“You really think he’ll get better?” Rebecca wanted to know.

Tyrael sighed. “I don’t know. But I do know I don’t want to be the one to take his head. Does anyone of you?”

“She’s right.” Methos agreed. “Just let him go. Let him die in the desert a few time, maybe it will help him. We still have a lot of work to do.” They still had their dead to bury.

Present Day

“Wow.” Joe breathed. “Damn, over three hundred Immortals in one place, duking it out? I would have loved to see that.”

Methos down another vodka shot. “No, wouldn’t have.”

“Yeah, probably not.” Joe shook his head. Now, that was a story. Zoll would be happy, if she was willing to believe it, which wasn’t a given. Such a big gathering of Immortals fighting to the death. “Hey, wait a second, are you pulling my leg? Or is this the origin of the Game and the Gathering?”

“Probably.” Methos simply said.

“Probably what?” Joe insisted.

“I don’t know.” Methos shrugged tiredly. “I really don’t know. Head were being taken long before that day. Just not quite in those numbers.”

Mesopotamia, ca. 4.300 BC

“Why exactly are we doing this?” Idiyan asked the other man while parrying the blows raining down on him. He had been walking towards the river when the other man had accosted him, challenged him to this fight right there and then.

“Because your Quickening will make me stronger.” His opponent replied.

“You mean the lightning inside us? I saw that happen once. Didn’t look all that pleasant to me.” Methos said and dodged beneath yet another swing of the kohpesh.

“It hurts worse than you can imagine, but the power, ah, the power, it makes it all worth it.” The man grinned at him and raised his kohpesh for another attack.

Idiyan dived under the weapon and buried his dagger in the other man’s stomach. “Not today, my friend.” He panted.

Idiyan was tempted to simple leave him here but the other man would probably follow him, insisting on taking his head. Therefore he waited for the other Immortal to return to life. There had to be a way to talk some sense into him.

It didn’t take long and the other man sat up with a pained grunt. He looked around for his kohpesh but Idiyan held hit. He wasn’t fool enough to give an opponent a weapon.

“You had your fight, you lost.” Idiyan stated. “Let us part ways and be done with it.”

“Never! Take my head, or I’ll take yours.” The man hissed.

“Tell me, how did you learn of this…transfer of power? Or did you merely find it amusing to cut off the heads of others?” Idiyan wanted to know.

“It was a woman, an ugly one. I would have kept a pretty one. I was part of a raiding party. We killed those we didn’t want as slaves. Beheaded them to keep the heads as trophies. I wasn’t even the one to do it. I stood next to our leader when she lost her head. The lightning just left her body and came to me, like it was searching for me. As I said, it hurt and when it was done most of the mortals were dead. The few that lived were running for their lives, fearing the spirits to be angry with them.” He explained laughing. “I’ve taken other heads since, not many, but enough to feel myself grow stronger.”

“And that’s all that is there to your live? Taking heads?” Idiyan asked curious.

The man shrugged. “Why not? I like it.”

Idiyan shook his head and without another word buried the kohpesh in the other man’s gut, killing him instantly. He had heard enough.

Cutting his head off wasn’t easy, the kohpesh wasn’t as sharp as it could be, but he got it eventually done. When the mist and lightning rose from the body, Idiyan braced himself. And it was a lot worse than he could have imagined, that much the other man had been right about.

But when it was over, Idiyan didn’t feel any more powerful, not additional power cursing through him, he just felt exhausted. Gathering his dagger and the kohpesh, it was his weapon now, and it was a good one, once he got the edge fixed, he continued on his way.

He wondered briefly what the man’s name had been, somehow he thought he should know the name of the man whose head and whose lightning he had taken, but it was too late to ask now. The man would remain nameless for the rest of time.

Present Day

A part of Methos wanted to tell Joe about that man, the nameless one who had dragged him into the Game before there had been a Game.

But what was there really to tell? He wasn’t even sure if it had really happened that way. The beheading, yes, but the rest? Maybe he was making it up in his mind to fill in the gaps. Even Immortal memory was far from perfect.

But he was pretty sure he had thought that man a one-off. That no one else would try for his head. And for a long time that had been true, but then one day it hadn’t.

Outside Ur, Mesopotamia, ca. 3.000 BC

“I’m called Joseph,” The man baring his way stated. He was well dressed, good sandals, cut and oiled beard. A rich man, with a good weapon.

“That is very good for you.” Idiyan replied. “What is it to me?”

“Do you really not know? How we can die once and for all?” Joseph wanted to know.

“I know, but we don’t have to do this.” Idiyan pointed out.

“No, I assume we don’t have to, but I’m afraid I’m these peoples’ god and I simply cannot take the risk of competition, my young friend.” The other man told him calmly.

“Competition? Listen, friend, I don’t want to be anyone’s god. I’m just passing through.” Idiyan tried to reason with him.

“So you say, but how do I know you speak the truth? No, it’s best if I slay you and show my people my true power.” Indicating his loyal worshippers lining the dust road.

“I should have stayed in the west.” Idiyan muttered. He had been living in a good place with good friends, some mortal, some Immortal. But as always after a time he had to leave, wanted to leave, to see new things, discover more of the world. And this was what his curiosity gained him, another battle.

At least Joseph made it clear that this was a battle between him and Idiyan, that none of the mortals present may interfere, no the pain of death. They only stood there cheering their god on. Idiyan found that terrible annoying. What was this Immortal really doing for them? He was no god, no matter what he or these mortals believed. He had no influence over the weather, or kept anyone healthy, or made the crops grow better. He was just a man. Wasn’t he?

All this went through Idiyan’s head while they fought. Joseph’s weapon was indeed of excellent quality and he knew how to use it. Compared to it, Idiyan’s own was barely more than a club but he knew how to wield it even better than Joseph.

He had once tried to let his opponent live, a long time ago. The man hadn’t claimed to be a god, but he hadn’t considered walking away either. It had been the only time he had to take another Immortal’s head. He didn’t relish the prospect of taking another one but he didn’t want to die either. Therefore only one of them would walk away from this.

And that was Idiyan. With a vicious blow to the knees he brought Joseph down and before the other Immortal could recover or even react, Idiyan slashed at his neck. Two strokes and the head fell to the ground, rolling a few feet before coming to rest in front of the suddenly silent crowd of spectators.

The Quickening hit Idiyan and for a long while he knew nothing but the power invading him. When it was over he staggered back to his feet, took Joseph’s sword as his own and started to walk away. The mortals parting in front of him, afraid and uncertain.

“What will happen to us now?” One of them dared to ask him.

“What do you mean?” Idiyan wanted to know. He was exhausted and only wanted to find a safe place to rest.

“You killed our god. Who will protect us now, if not you?” the man pointed out.

Methos snorted. “How about you learn to protect yourself?” With that he resumed walking

End


End file.
